Good Hair’s out. I’m sick.

Everybody and their dog, by now, likely knows Texas Gov. Rick “Good Hair” Perry has dropped out of the insane spectacle known as the race for the Republican presidential nomination. Perry has thrown his support to Newt Gingrich on the day the Newtered’s second wife is claiming the former House Speaker wanted an open marriage. Better Newt than later.

It still seems highly unlikely anyone except Mitt Romney will be anointed GOP nominee barring some otherworldly occurrence. Even so Gingrich seems least likely of any of this crop’s top candidates, present or past, to defeat Obama in the General Election.

Frankly, I don’t care at this point who gets the nomination. I do wonder what the return of Perry will mean for the Texas political landscape for the next several years. Will his fellow Texas Republicans in the Legislature pile on Perry, thus rendering a bigger freak show than it is already? Will Perry run again for governor? If so, would he win? These are questions more important at this point to me than why the governor dropped out of the race. We already know why he dropped out: Real people unlike those who voted continuously for him in Texas don’t buy his act. They realize what those of us who didn’t vote for him already knew–that he was an empty cowboy hat and boots.

The less I hear the name Rick Perry on the national scene, the happier I will be.

What I am unhappy  about is my stomach. The headline above, Perry’s out, I’m sick. Well, I’m certainly not sick Perry dropped out. No, I am feeling ill today because my tummy has taken me on an unpleasant ride, the destination of which has mainly been the bathroom. If that is TMI already, I’m sorry.

I have no idea what has upset the tank, but at this point, I only want the feelings which run from stormy to gut-punch to cease and desist. I’ve already switched my workday from today to tomorrow, thus ruining a three-day weekend. That’s kind of crappy, if you ask me. I’ll not remark upon the pun. Time for a nap.